Games/Diversions

Literature/Music/Art

Amazing Offer

Sorry, but we're no longer taking orders for fried chicken. Also, "The Win a Date with Daniel Boone" contest has been cancelled. And I was just kidding when I said you could sample Kentucky bourbons by licking my home page.

Subscribe

Good news for all 5th-graders contemplating suicide in Laurel County, Kentucky.

That’s right, boys and girls. The Laurel County School Board has decided to allow Gideons International to set up tables in public schools and distribute copies of the New Testament to any students who want them. Not the whole bible, mind you, but just the Jesus-y parts.

However, don’t worry, Jews and Muslims and Hindus and Buddhists and all of you other cultists. Even you goddamned, confrontational, constantly rude heathens don’t need to get your dander up. The Crucifocracy will not be establishing religion; they will not foist their beliefs on children. As the Gideons’ lawyer, Terry Beckner, pointed out about the bibles: “These are not forced on anyone.” So your kids are free to say “no,” even in the face of official encouragement and peer pressure. Most youngsters are resistant to those kinds of things anyway, aren’t they? I’ve never heard of any 10- and 11-year-olds who succumbed to the wishes of their principals and the urgings of their friends. Have you?

One school board member wondered why all grades weren’t going to be in on the divine bonanza. Beckner explained: “We always have done 5th-graders.” (I assume he was quoting from a Roman Catholic priestly document.)

The school board’s attorney, Larry Bryson, said that there was another good reason to limit the freebies to 5th-graders: “That is the age of accountability.”

Really, that should have been obvious, right? Fifth-graders are famous for their accountability. That’s why so many of our elected officials strive to limit themselves to a 4th-grade mentality, so they don’t have to be accountable. Duh!

If you wish, you can read the full story, but I’d urge you not to do so right after you’ve eaten.

By the way, I do have a suggestion to the ACLU and all of those other misguided folks like me who believe in the Constitution: We should apply to the Laurel County School Board to pass out copies of David Adams Leeming’s The World of Myth, , which compares stories from many global mythologies (including the bible) in a number of categories. The excerpts are no more difficult for accountable kids to read than the Jacobean English of the gospels; in fact, the stories in Leeming’s anthology are much easier to understand.

And, obviously, we wouldn’t force any child to take that book. It’s not our fault if they tease one another for stubbornly refusing. Nor should we be blamed if they beat each other up for not believing in the universal Earth goddess. But I do think it’s fair for us to withhold lollipops and approval from any student who doesn’t accept our kind offer. After all, they can’t be accountable if they don’t have manners.

OK, gang. I’m going to throw a few philosophical questions out there into the ether, and I’m hoping that some of you will weigh in.

Please bear with me while I give you the background.

This past Saturday, for the fourth fucking time, our local silly atheist submitted an answer to a “Question of Faith” on the “Life + Faith” page of Lexington’s Daily Rag. His softball drivel appeared along with six responses by “representatives” of various Christian churches hereabouts. The editor’s poser was fraught with Christian assumptions: “Why does our society ignore our day of rest?” In other words: Watch for the Ten Commandments to be appearing soon in a courthouse or public school near you.

The LSA’s printed answer was kinda dumb, but that’s not the point. The fact that he began by saying, ‘As an atheist …” (thereby inplying that atheists had an official position on “the day of rest”) was really infuriating, but that’s not the point either.

The point is: What the fuck is he doing on the “Faith” page?

I wrote him a harsh email suggesting, among other things, that he tell the editor to take her slanted questions and shove them up her ass (although, I recommended that he not use my specific phraseology). I said that he was hurting Lexington’s freethinking community with his responses.

Today, he wrote back, telling me that I had made a “wildly unfounded accusation.” Wasn’t my reaction, he asked, based merely on a “dislike” of what he’d written?

I replied:

[T]o answer your question: The reason I think you’re doing harm to the freethinking community is that you’re inadvertently giving the newspaper an out as being “balanced.” Every time your responses appear on the “Faith” page, you give the editors a further opportunity to claim how “fair” they are to non-theists. Maybe we — all of us atheists, Humanists, skeptics, doubters, secularists, call us what you’d like — ought to make a concerted effort toward being given an occasional opportunity to state our views in a journal that’s heavily weighted toward religion, Christianity in particular. Many of the writers there push a Christian agenda: [I named a few columnists who are frequent cheerleaders for Jesus]. And if there’s any excuse whatsoever to include a church event on the front page as news, some reporter will jump at it. I think we should all get together to lobby for a “Reason” feature once in a while, or, at very least, a chance to appear on the Op/Ed page semi-regularly. Not on the “Faith” page. Maybe the H-L could start a monthly column called “Voices of Reason” (fat chance!) or something that gives a genuine nod to those of us who don’t believe in any gods. Then, you could write about whatever you choose to discuss, rather than answering questions that, essentially, push a religious agenda. That’s my main complaint: When you respond to [the editor’s] highly slanted questions, you appear to be buying into her assumptions. It doesn’t really matter what you write, because her smug “truth” is already contained in the way she couches each topic. It’s a lose-lose situation for an atheist.

You and I are part of a small community of reason here. Whether we like it or not, we do speak, somewhat, for one another. Since we’re vastly outnumbered, each of us has some responsibility to all the others. The majority tends to view a minority — particularly one it fears — as an entirety, judged through the words and actions of any member of that group. When you write for the “Faith” page, not only do we as a community gain nothing, but we are all genuinely hurt by appearing to sanction the Herald-Leader’s constant clarion call to espouse religion. That’s not your fault, because you’re only one person, as you do point out. But you’ve been thrown a poisoned bone by [the editor]. You don’t get to have any input in the topics under discussion; you’re always forced to react to her set of nonsensical “givens”. And you’ve been placed in the unenviable position of speaking for all of us.

Because there’s no other public atheist writing at that newspaper, you’ re its personification of Lexington atheism. And, as such, you’re giving a thumb’s-up to the perpetuation of the “Faith” page and, indirectly, the rest of the Herald-Leader’s superstition-soaked reporting.

Please don’t take this personally, because I’d write exactly the same note to any self-identified atheist who chose to write for a “Faith” page. Atheism isn’t a faith. It’s freedom from faith. Let’s not put ourselves into the position of seeming to agree that faith should be given any credence, whatsoever.

After I sent and reread (yeah, I did them in that order) what I’d written, I wondered if my opinions were really indicative of any godless consensus. So, I’d like to find out. Since you readers are clearly representatives of the best and the brightest among heathens, I’d like toask you:

1. Is there any circumstance under which it would be a good idea for an atheist to respond to a tendentious question on a newspaper’s “Faith” page? If so, what might that circumstance be?

2. Do you agree or disagree that the vast majority of religionists generally judge all atheists by the words and actions of any publicly recognized atheist? If you agree: Do we have some kind of responsibility to one another not to say or do things that make us look like idiots? Or is that too much of a burden for us individualists to place on ourselves?

3. In an area dominated by crypto-Christian newspapers, radio stations, and television channels, how can we atheists get ourselves a booth in the marketplace of ideas? Do we have to wait for the freethinkers’ equivalent of the Stonewall raids before we’re given an opportunity to state our case in the mainstream media, or is there some more reasonable way to coax news publishers and broadcasters into granting coverage to our ideas?

Ugh! I hate the dog days of summer. All that heat and humidity addles my mind.

Maybe that’s why I’ve mixed up the names of the authors of these great quotes. Not only have I written them backwards, but I’ve separated each last name from the rest of the name. And to make matters even worse, neither the last name nor the rest of the name are attached to the right saying.

There’s also something very strange about each quote, although the weirdness fits a single pattern.

My challenge to you readers is to find the full name of the correct author of each of the gems below. Most of the names will be familiar; perhaps one or two will not. (Hint: One was a Polish satirist; another, a French playwright). Extra credit for those of you who can explain the odd quirk about the quotes in general. Please don’t ruin the puzzle for others by posting your solutions as comments; send your answers to elwallberg at gmail.com. (As usual, those who get anything right will be thrown a bone at the bottom of the post.)

Obviously, you can feel free — and are even encouraged — to leave other comments, like, for instances, UOY KCUF or Llubtip damn you, Yrral Grebllaw.

Kcul doog!

1. [T]hese Christians believe they are acting in the name of Eldoop, so they can’t and won’t compromise. I know, I’ve tried to deal with them. — Yebba Ydoow

2. Reliewttor is a sound people make when they’re too tired to think anymore. — Mahguam C.W.

3. I cannot believe in a Dnuohdoolb that has neither honor nor common sense. — Cel Ohcuorg

4. I distrust those people who know so well what Teppihw wants them to do because I notice it always coincides with their own desires. — Retawdlog Naej

5. Good Ffitsam, how much reverence can you have for a Supreme Being who finds it necessary to include such phenomena as phlegm and tooth decay in his divine system of creation? — Nilrac EessenneT

6. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy Ztipshsinnif in vain. Unless you’ve used up all the other four-letter words. — Nekcnem Yrrab

Top dogs:Chappy (15 + extra credit)Srsny (15 + extra credit)
[If you’d like to see all the answers, drop me an email and I’ll send them to you.]

When my friend visited me from New York, one of the things she really wanted to do was to go to Shaker Village. Having been there once, I had no desire to hear the history of the silly religious sect again. The only thing I remember about them is that they were hot for celibacy, so they didn’t tend to breed much. Soon — big surprise! — they went extinct. Who says Darwin is inapplicable to Christianity?

In any case, on the morning of the day my we’d planned to head to Pleasant Hill (how pleasant could it be without sex?), we heard that the temperature was going to be 91 degrees. Even my friend had no interest in braving the sweltering heat just to watch people make chairs.

So we stayed home, and, to mollify her, I found a decent rendition of that ubiquitous Shaker tune. (Note: The tune is ubiquitous; the Shakers, as previously noted, not so much.) By the way, if you’re wondering what to get me for my next birthday, the jewel in the video is a simple gift I’d enjoy.

If you know me, you can probably guess the rest. I wound up with an earworm. And so did my friend. We spent a lot of the rest of the day asking one another to stop whistling.

The weirdest thing about “Simple Gifts,” however, is that it’s hardly ever performed simply. This sweet potato is trying to make her interpretation look easy, but she’s not fooling anyone, is she?

Here are a couple of Presbyterians, clearly working hard. Once or twice they get so close to one another that it’s a good question whether they’ll be able to remain celibate for long.

Occasionally, even a rendition that has aural simplicity still manages to look impossible. How did these siblings get their pianos on the sand?

A new set of lyrics was written in 1963 by Sydney Carter, who managed to combine Christ and dancing. Screw all those fundies who think that doing the jig is a sin. (In case you’re in too much of a religious rapture to notice, I should warn you that the input file has no video stream.)

Given Carter’s lyrics, you should have guessed that I’d include this unsimple performance, with its many encores. What says “simple” more than a fireworks display? In fact, the only thing remotely simple about this video, is the fact that the guy forgot to put on his shirt.

Most of my readers take a dim view of blind faith. However, you may not have thought about this: It doesn’t always manifest itself as religious expression. There’s that whole Field of Pipedreams business about “if you build it, they will come.”

Yesterday, I was thinking about how stupid that phrase is when I was reading this article in the local rag. Let me give you the background.

In a little bit more than a month, Lexington will play host to the World Equestrian Games. The city is going nuts with excitement. For more than a year, hoteliers and restauranteurs and souvenir vendors have been counting their soon-to-be-made money.

If you have no idea what the WEG is (are?), you’re probably not alone. I’d never heard of it (them?) until I moved here last October. To put it simply: they’re a kind of Olympics for horses, a series of effete competitions that only equino-manes can enjoy: jumping and vaulting (fuck knows what the difference is), reining (horses, not cats and dogs), eventing (huh?), and endurance (although mostly of P.R. pros). And of course, there’s everyone’s favorite, dressage (playing with paper-doll ponies) and para dressage (playing with paper-doll parasites). If you’re really interested — but why would you be unless your name is Flicka? —you can find all the relevant information on Google; I’m not paid to advertise here.

Lexington is one of the horse capitals of the world, and hosting the WEG seemed like a good fit. The expectation around these parts was that the area would be overrun with furriners just dying to toss their funny-looking cash around. Downtown streets have been torn up, and are being rebuilt in preparation for the expected influx of alien tender, legal or illegal. Concerts have been arranged, because as everyone knows, Europeans and Asians need to experience our native culture: country music and Christian rock. High school bands will march and play (but not necessarily both at the same time), Kentucky’s Junior Leaguers will hold meet-‘n’-greets, and local eateries will offer special horsemeat buffets. Just kidding. (They’ll be serving the same plain ol’ horsemeat and grits that they always do.)

Unfortunately, the horses have been preceded by the horseshitters. Greedy hotel owners were fed plenty of fodder by the hucksters who swore that Lexington would be teeming with international currency just dying to be spent — literally jumping out of the sissy wallets carried by those crazy-talking strangers. But the story in yesterday’s Herald-Leader reveals that nearly one-third of all the hotel rooms in town, some of which have been marked up to nearly four times their regular price, are still unspoken for. As the saying goes: Foals rush in, but wise men save their bread. The town’s hotel-owners were clearly eager to make hay while the sun shines, but the globe’s horsey set hasn’t saddled up for the ride. So there’s plenty of hay, but not enough hayseeds.

As it turns out, The WEG buzz is just a variant on “if you build it, they will come.” Like all offshoots of that “plucky” but dumb saying, it’s as American as applesauce. It springs from the same mindless sensibility in which a 13-year-old appearing as a contestant on a televised talent competition can say, with perfect seriousness, “It’s always been my dream to play Vegas.” It’s a product of the same empty-headedness that gives celebrities the idea that they’re political pundits. “If you build it …” goes hand in hand with those bumper stickers in which parents express their irrational pride in their backward children.

Here in Lexington, the myth has taken a familiar form: “If you hype it, they will come.” But maybe not, particularly if you try to gouge visitors by charging inexcusably high prices during a worldwide financial slump.

I must admit that as a skeptic, I’m amused by the if-you-build-it mentality. Because, really: it makes no more sense than putting one’s faith in the existence of Mr. Ed. Only horses’ asses believe that kind of stuff.

OK, the winners of the Lexington Herald-Leader “The Best of Everything” Readers’ Choice 2010 poll have been announced, and apparently I am not the most popular Local Media Personality (newspaper, TV. radio, blogger). Nor am I the city’s most popular Pet Groomer, Cosmetic Surgeon, or Place to Worship.

No specific numbers were published, so, lacking evidence, we have to take the results on faith. The most popular media personality in Lexington is Leland Conway, who is — you’ll never believe this — a conservative radio commentator. The runners-up are a TV weatherman, and an early morning guy who claims he gets “to meet the greatest people on the earth: Kentuckians!” (FYI: The exclamation point is his.) Unfortunately, those people weren’t great enough to spell his last name correctly. It’s Cruse, not (as the newspaper editors wrote) Cruise. No relation to Tom or Carnival.

The poll is disappointing in other areas, too. Lexington is, happily, home to a number of decent all-day breakfast joints, but the readers’ favorite Place to Eat Breakfast/Brunch is that uniquely Bluegrass entity, the chain-restaurant Cracker Barrel (yuck). I guess the greatest people on the earth don’t necessarily enjoy gorging on one another’s pancakes.

There are dozens of local hamburger eateries here, too, some pretty good. But the second favorite Burger Joint is a national one, Wendy’s (also yuck). Have you given up lite beer for low-end wine? You’ll probably be pleased to know that the second favorite Place to Buy Wine and Spirits is Kroger, an Ohio-based grocery chain.

I don’t really get it. Lexington is overrun with local boosters. Everywhere you go, you’ll hear about our basketball team, our horses, our bourbon, our coal, our god. Yet, when asked to choose their favorites in food, they ignore the local talent, and settle for bland national chains. Perhaps Lexingtonians don’t eat out because they’re too busy staying at home listening to right-wing radio and watching the latest news about rain.

That would seem to be the case, because the name of one of the finalists in Place for Patio Dining has a parenthetical next to it: “(NOW CLOSED).” I guess all the genteel Southern love , even from the greatest people on the earth, wasn’t sufficient to keep it from being affected by the recession. I’m pretty sure that our popular weatherman would blame the closure on meteorological phenomena. But I wonder how Leland Conway could conceivably turn it into Nancy Pelosi fault’s.

A Jewish man buys a yacht, and starts wearing nautical attire. One day, he goes to visit his mother. She says, “So what’s with the sailor suit all of a sudden?” He says, “I told you I bought a yacht. So now I’m a captain.” His mother gives his outfit a good once-over and says, “OK. By you, you’re a captain. And by me, you’re captain. But by a captain, are you a captain?”

All of which is by way of introduction. Thanks to the sponsorship of a reader who stumbled across this post, but who may want to remain anonymous (although he can feel free to identify himself in the comments, if he’s not too ashamed), I received an official document in the mail today. Tearing open the envelope in excitement, I found a proclamation, beautifully printed in about eight different typefaces, on heavy paper, and signed by Steven L. Beshear, Governor:

In testimony whereof, I have caused these letters to be made patent, and the seal of the Commonwealth to be hereunto affixed. Done at Frankfort, the 22nd day of July in the year of our Lord two thousand and ten and the 219th year of the Commonwealth.

Christ’s Dad made the world in only six days. But apparently, it took Jesus 1,791 years to create Kentucky. Which only goes to prove: don’t trust your kids to do what you can do cheaper, better, and faster. And with less manpower.

By the way, in case you’re wondering: I don’t know whether or not any gods have ever been designated a Kentucky Colonel. I kind of doubt it, because I’ve never heard of a song called “Nearer My Kentucky Colonel to Thee” or “I Guess the Kentucky Colonel Must Be in New York City.” Maybe he would have been recognized if he’d done a better job creating Lexington’s traffic flow.

Be that as it may: I’m now happy to have something in common, besides overeating, with Babe Ruth, Winston Churchill, and Elvis. (No, it’s not that I’m dead.)

According to the Colonels’ website:

The Governor’s order creating the commission states that the commission carries with it a responsibility to be “Kentucky’s ambassador of good will and fellowship around the world.”

Keeping that obligation in mind, I take a solemn oath to continue to spread the good news far and wide, on behalf of my adopted state, that it is possible to live a rational god-free life and still reap the innocent joys of digging into a bowl of Chocolate Cheerios in the morning. So from now on, I’ll thank you to address me as Colonel Godless Yankee Commie Homo-supporting Baby-killing Bastard.

My last post received a comment from Catch, whom I consider a bright and clever woman. Her comment isn’t unique; it poses the very same kind of question I get asked frequently. She wondered why some of us atheists get “as agitated about religion” as we do. She doesn’t understand why we don’t have more of a laissez faire attitude toward theists.

Personally, I rarely give any of them a second thought. If they are so weak that they need a god for strength to deal with life, so be it. If they want to pray for me, let them waste their time. I’ve better things to do, including creating my own nonsense, than to rally against stupidity of religious zealots.

Here’s my response to her:

Your ideas would be fine … if everyone lived in a vacuum. But we don’t. It’s the theists who are making it harder and harder for women to get abortions, the theists who demonize homosexuals, the theists who seek to prevent America’s public school children from receiving a decent education in both the sciences and the humanities, the theists who nourish racial prejudice and xenophobic discrimination, the theists whose perverse idea of Christianity perpetuates environmental and economic disasters. On top of which, it’s the theists whose zealotry leads to the international sanction of child abuse, to the bombing of buildings, to the worldwide subservience of women, and to repeated calls for “holy” war in just about every country on the globe.

So that’s why — even though you may not give any of them a second thought — you ought to do so. Yes, if they want to pray for you, fine. Who gives a shit? If they want to knock on your door at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning, big deal. You can say something snide and go back to sleep.

But if they want to blow you up, or gun you down, or rape your children, or prevent women from having the same freedom as men, or obstruct medical research, or curtail anyone’s Constitutional rights because his or her liberty doesn’t accord with the “teachings” of their primitive “sacred” text, that’s not so fine. It’s a threat to everyone on the planet.

So that’s why some of us atheists get so agitated. How could any decent person not?

I’ve always hated the summer. It’s too goddamned hot, f’cryinoutloud. So I get particularly cranky about bullshit when July and August roll around.

I get so tired of hearing the same stupid arguments over and over again from theists. Their proofs of the existence of a god are beneath contempt, and don’t even deserve a reply.

I also get tired of reading philosophical claptrap written ad nauseam by some atheist bloggers.

A_Blogger: I’m addressing this to the Christians who read my blog.Me: Nice one! You’re about to make some devastating argument against religion that absolutely no one has thought of yet, right?A_Blogger: Well, maybe somebody has thought of it. But my Christian readers may not have seen it before.Me: And the millions of religonists who read your blog regularly will suddenly have their eyes opened here by your brilliant insights on Nobody_Gives_A_Shit_What_I_Write.com? A_Blogger: Not millions. But a few lurkers, maybe.Me: What, like a thousand? A hundred? Ten?A_Blogger: Every person counts.Me: Toward what? Are you an evangelical?

A_Blogger: We atheists have to show that you can be good without any gods.Me: Just like theists show that their god makes them good?A_Blogger: Well, one of religion’s biggest arguments is that morality comes from their god.Me: Then ask them to prove it. And have them give examples from history. And don’t let them get away with defining morality to include their silly precepts against dancing or drinking or gambling or any other biblically disapproved activities. Make them tell you what actions are and aren’t moral, and how they know which is which.A_Blogger: Still, we ought …Me: And who’s this “we” you keep talking about?

A_Blogger: Atheists in America have to organize.Me: I agree. We shouldn’t vote for anyone who doesn’t believe 100% in separation of church and state.A_Blogger: Yes!Me: So we shouldn’t support any candidate or elected official who refers to “God” or who panders to the religious zealots in the country, as Obama did when he expanded the Office of Faith-Based and “Neighborhood” — ha!— Partnerships?A_Blogger: Well, sometimes we have to take the lesser of two evils.Me: I thought you said we have to organize.A_Blogger: Yeah, we do. But we can’t accomplish all our goals at once.Me: What goals do we have besides promoting separation of church and state?A_Blogger: We need to advocate for reason.Me: So we shouldn’t ally ourselves with any public figure who perpetuates unreason? Like, say, telling the public how good prayer is, as Obama did in his speech about the oil crisis?A_Blogger: Obama doesn’t really believe that stuff. He only says it to …Me: … to pander to the religious zealots in the country? And to perpetuate unreason?

A_Blogger: The world would be a better place if religion were to disappear.Me: So people would miraculously change from being the assholes that they are if they had no gods to pray to?A_Blogger: Well, at least they wouldn’t have any nonsense to believe in.Me: So you’re saying that there’s no nonsense aside from religion?A_Blogger: No, I’m not saying that. Don’t put words in my mouth. But religion is a worse kind of nonsense than …Me: Than political nonsense? Than legal nonsense? Than economic nonsense? Than literary nonsense? Than artistic …A_Blogger: Look, if religion were gone, that would be just one less kind of nonsense for us to have to deal with.Me: Who’s “us”?

You can come up with variations of those conversations, but they always boil down to the same ol’ thing.

By the way, I’m also bored with Republicans and Democrats, all media commentators, and basically anyone who tries to sell me on his or her opinion about anything. I’m enervated daily by fans of the U.K. Wildcats, Lexington “boosters,” and genteel Southerners. I’m sick of folks who buy lite beer. And I’ve had it up to here with people who tweet (except birders trying to attract rare species).

So I’ve adopted, as a personal anthem, this little ditty by one of my favorite singers.

By the way: I may feel slightly less curmudgeonly when mid-September finally arrives.